Angels Born On Earth
by G.M. Lloyd
Summary: Set right after Devil's Trap. Pretty Dean centered. After they were finally putting things in order to start it all over again, Dean's most valuable possession goes missing. If the wrong hands find it, the Earth will become Hell.
1. Go to Them

**Angels Born on Earth**

**Disclaimer: **All I own is this creepy little kid that comes in a later chapter.

**Chapter 1 – Go to Them**

_Dean Winchester could hear the sound of joyful voices around him. It sounded like children playing, but he couldn't see them or anything else. That didn't matter though, because the voices were so comforting that he could have stayed there just listening for all eternity. _

_The smell of wet leaves in autumn invaded his nostrils as he felt the freshness of early spring. And slowly, like in a movie, the darkness lifted and trees that sparkled with raindrops began appearing at either side of him as the children's voices mixed with the birds' songs. He walked listening to the sound his footsteps made as he stepped on the leaf-covered ground and he stopped only to take a bunch of these dried leaves and smell them. It was real. He really was here, in this beautiful forest. He knew, because he could feel the life in those leaves and in the raindrops that still stubbornly lingered amongst them. _

_And he had been here before. He didn't know when or why, but he was sure he had. _

_Dropping the leaves, he kept walking, knowing exactly that when he came out of the forest he would have to go down a hill to finally face an infinite lake of crystal-clear water. As Dean walked, the voices of the children became louder and all he wanted to do was reach them. _

_He made it to the lake just in time to see a small blonde boy about eight years old running after ayounger boy with dark hair. Dean knew the boys were brothers and he knew they were happy here… but he also knew they wouldn't be able to stay for much longer. But that didn't matter now because they were happy. The boys didn't seem to notice Dean as they ran like a bullet in his direction, apparently seeing something or someone else that stood behind him._

"_Daddy!" shouted little Dean as he ran. Abruptly, seeing the look on John Winchester's face the boy stopped and grabbed little Sammy who was coming right behind him. He wiped off the grass and dirt of his little brother's clothes and stood straight facing his father, the innocence the grown-up Dean had seen earlier in the child's green eyes was gone, fully expecting to receive and obey orders. The adult Dean could now see his father, much younger but just as morose as the present day John Winchester. He watched his father speak but didn't pay attention to what was being said. He already knew the speech - he had heard it too many times; they had to leave, a friend called asking for their help, no time to play, Sammy, there would be time for that later, this is an order, do you understand me? Yes, sir. He knew it by heart. So Dean turned around and focused his attention on the lake that spread before him. _

_Walking down the pier, he noticed how calm the water was and how easy it was to see the bottom of the lake. He couldn't spot many fish; just white sand that seemed to expand forever in the depths of the lake. It was so inviting… and as he sat at the edge of the pier, he noticed he couldn't take his eyes of the water. Only his reflection stared back at him, as calm and open as it hadn't been in years. He had never allowed his mask to fail him and show how he really felt, but what his reflection showed him now was simply Dean. Dean before his mother died. Dean before his happiness depended on dad's and Sammy's happiness. As translucent and pure as the water beneath him. So much so that he almost couldn't recognize his own face. And suddenly the image was disturbed and the water stirred. It was only for a fraction of a second, but when he could stare into the calm water again, it wasn't him who stared back; it was his mother. Dean's eyes widened as he tried to do something, anything, but his body and brain seemed to not want to respond, so he did nothing and simply stared at his mother's long blonde hair flowing with the small waves of the lake and her eyes that reflected all the sunlight that reached the water._

"_Go back now, Dean, go to them," she said smiling sadly, and her image was gone as suddenly as it had come. His own reflection stared back at him again, but he didn't want that, he wanted to follow her, go into that lake and stay in its depths where he could finally rest, like the reflection that had stared at him earlier, calm, happy, just Dean. Not Dean, the hunter, just Dean. He was about to dive and let the water take him, but something stopped him. A tiny little hand had taken his. Startled, he looked up and saw little Sammy._

"_Come and play with me!" he said pulling him with his chubby little hands, looking at him with those puppy eyes Dean could never refuse._

"_Sammy…" he muttered surprised at how weak and sad his voice sounded. He stood up, forgetting his own wishes to go into the lake and followed him. Because if that made Sammy happy, he would do it, and willingly, because he had made little Sammy smile. As he walked along the pier back to the beach, darkness started to set in again until he couldn't see anything. He didn't mind though, because Sam's hand was guiding him back. The smell of nature was gone, the sounds of birds and other animals had stopped too and strange noises replaced them… he could hear a constant beep in the distance that grew louder with each step he took. His body felt weak and suddenly a sharp pain invaded it. _

_He thought he would fall over in his agony, but immediately realized he had been lying down the entire time. Sam's hand never faltered, though, it was still tightly holding on to his, but now it seemed as if it had grown, the hand was no longer chubby and small, but large with long and slim fingers. He hurt with such intensity that he couldn't tell what the source of the pain was and he couldn't suppress a groan and the heavy breathing that followed. He tried to make it stop; Sam was there and he would worry. But as much as he tried to stop himself, it was like he had no control over his body. The lake, the reflections and little Dean and little Sam forgotten, he could feel pillows under his head, the loud, constant beep indicating his heartbeats and the various syringes connected to his body. _

But Sam's hand was still there.

Memories of his father possessed by the demon that killed his mother passed through his mind, and how he had witnessed his father fight the demon regaining control over his body only for a few seconds. He had really fought for him; he had fought for Dean. He vaguely remembered being carried to the back seat of his 1967 Chevrolet Impala and later, a flash of light before darkness had finally taken him. And that was all he could remember.

An eternity went by before he managed to force his lead-like eyelids open, and the first thing he noticed through his blurry vision was Sam's untidy mop of hair covered partly by a thick bandage. His head was resting on Dean's bed and although he was fast asleep, his hand was holding on to Dean's as if his life depended on it. His eyes scanned the white walls, all the machines and their respective wires, most of which were connected to his heart, he realized as he followed them. His exposed chest was covered by a white bandage a lot like Sam's. He knew there was someone else in the room as well. He tried to focus his tired eyes on the occupant of the chair at the far end of the room, near the door. The darkness of the place wasn't helping his vision, and he couldn't make out who it was, but his heart told him it was his father. His leg rested outstretched on a small chair encased in a plaster. His head was also heavily bandaged and Dean couldn't understand why his father and brother were hurt. Concern began to build up and his heart began to pound faster in worry and nervousness. And suddenly he knew what the source of all his pain was. The extra work his heart was doing caused the already agonizing pain to become unbearable. A loud moan he wasn't conscious of uttering escaped his dry lips, only worsening the pain, but he couldn't stop it. And Sam's hand broke contact with his. _Just let it end! _He thought desperately.

He didn't know where he was anymore or who he was, all he knew was pain. And Sam wasn't there anymore. But he had to be! He had seen him before, asleep… if only he could open his eyes again to make sure he was there. He managed to open them but the room was spinning and his eyelids closed again.

"Sammy!" he tried to shout as a last resort to get his brother back. Sam couldn't leave him, not again.

The name only came out as a whisper, but it was enough for Dean to feel his touch again and this time… his voice… he was saying something.

"I'm here, Dean, it's okay," he was saying. He sounded so happy. And so Dean felt himself calm down because Sammy was happy. "Dad went to get the doctor, don't worry they'll make the pain stop, everything will be okay… Thank God you woke up, Dean," he added and with that, Dean could rest again. He felt his heart calm down and his worries left him. And he finally slept at ease.

* * *

Sam Winchester didn't dare let go of his brother's hand. As he sat next to Dean's bed he could only think of how close he had been to losing him.

Sam had woken up in his brother's destroyed Impala with a pounding head and for a moment all he could see was blood. Taken by surprise by the sight, he jumped wiping his eyes until the blood was gone. Immediately he regretted the movement, for it caused him to realize that his neck was killing him and his left arm was numb. He calmed himself down and tried to focus on his surroundings. His body hurt all over and he couldn't move much, but then he saw his father. He was leaning against the broken window, his head bled steadily and his neck was bent in a strange angle.

"Dad!" he shouted. No answer. His foggy mind began reminding him of something else… or rather someone else in the car… and the events of that day began flooding back into his mind making his head hurt even more. But he didn't have time for pain, not after a name had formed in his thoughts: _Dean_. Sam reached out to his father with his right arm and quickly found a pulse. Now it was time to concentrate in his brother. Sam tried to get out of the car to drag his brother out but all his efforts were in vain. His body wouldn't respond and as much as he tried to force the door with his good arm, it wouldn't budge. Instead, he reached to the back seat as close to Dean's neck as he could get and frantically looked for a pulse but found none.

Panicking, Sam dialed 911 in his phone that he miraculously still found in his pocket, safe. The rest had all been a blur as Sam could do nothing but sit there until help arrived and then as they were transferred to separate ambulances and later as all he could do was wait for his father and brother to wake up. And it was during those days that Sammy felt truly alone for the first time. He regretted every argument he had had with the two men, every call he hadn't picked up in Stanford just because the caller ID said "Dad" or "Dean" and he fully regrettedevery moment wasted without them.

Sam's injuries had been mild compared to the rest of his family: he had broken his arm and he had been lucky his neck hadn't broken. He also had a concussion that had been treated immediately and in a few days he had been strong enough to walk again sporting a brand new cervical collar and a plastered left arm.

After three weeks John had been fine, a cast on his leg and a cervical collar of his own being the only reminders of that horrible night. Dean on the other hand, according to the doctor, had slipped into a terminal coma with no real chances of survival unless the Winchesters decided to count on 'a miracle' as a possibility.

But Dean had been okay. He would be fine now. After a month and a half of waiting for a reaction, any reaction at all, Sam had seen Dean come back to them, even when the doctors had given up all hope, Dean had defied them.

It had been a week since Dean had first woken up, and Sam hadn't left his side for a minute. Doctors and nurses had long ago stopped giving him the "visiting hours" policy, since obviously it didn't seem to apply to the young man and his father. Instead, they brought them food and changed their bandages and checked on their wounds.

Dean hadn't opened his eyes in that entire week, but Sam felt such a great relief to see him sleep without the help of a machine keeping him breathing, or another keeping his heart beating. No. Now Dean was fighting on his own again, which had always been his specialty. Sam knew how much Dean hated depending on something even if that something was keeping him away from death.

Sam felt more than saw Dean flinching a little, taking a deep breath and frowning in pain. Sam watched him impatiently like a child on Christmas day. Slowly, too slowly for Sam, Dean's hazel green gaze focused on his little brother again after what had seemed like years. He blinked a couple of times and then opened his eyes fully.

**A/N: Heya... hope you guys liked the first chapter... and trust me, I will finishthis story'cause I've already written the first 5 chapters and they are safely umm... safe... in my totally hardcore secretlittle folder... talking about stories, the story really starts in the next chapter, this was just a transition(I guess you could call it) between Devil's Trap and my made up story...anyway...I'd love some reviews! Thanks for reading.**


	2. The Necklace

**For disclaimers and other useless things check Chapter 1.**

Chapter 2 – The Necklace

John Winchester shifted uncomfortably in his chair at the feet of his oldest son's bed. He had seldom abandoned it since he had been well enough to leave his own bed, much like Sam, only his youngest son didn't have to deal with the guilt. He could hold his brother's hand without feeling like a hypocrite. John, however, didn't dare go any nearer Dean than he already had. After all, it had been him who almost got his own son killed.

He watched Sam suddenly straighten up, his eyes fixed on his brother. John looked at Dean then and realized why his youngest son seemed expectant: Dean was moving and looked like he was about to wake up. John had secretly dreaded this moment and he hated himself for it. He was supposed to be as eager and relieved as Sam, and he was, but he also knew he would finally have to face his son and he just didn't know what to expect. Disappointment? Anger? He didn't want to find out.

_Coward_, he thought.

* * *

"Sam?" asked Dean in a coarse whisper, frowning again to focus his eyes. "Man you look like crap… when was the last time you slept? And… shaved?" 

Sam couldn't even reply. Hearing his brother's teasing again was far more than he could have asked for. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but ended up smiling widely. He had thought of saying "I could say the same for you" but it just wouldn't have been true. Compared to the deadly pale color of his skin and the purple bruises under his eyes that Dean had acquired during the coma, in Sam's eyes, right now he looked better than ever, having regained color, strength and basically life. Suddenly a look of concern crossed Dean's hazel eyes.

"How's dad?" he asked and was relieved to see that Sam's smile didn't falter.

"He's fine, Dean," Sam answered, "Dad, what are you doing? Come closer!" As Sam turned to help his father stand up, Dean smiled amused at his brother's tone; he sounded like a five-year-old.

"Hey there, kiddo," said John with that typical tired but loving smile as he limped on his crouches towards his eldest.

"Hey, dad, how are you doing?"

Sam knew what was going through his father's mind and as much as he wanted to stay with Dean, he knew they had to talk in private.

"I'm gonna go to the cafeteria for a bit," he said and disappeared behind the door before either Dean or John could stop him.

"Dean…" started the latter, but Dean shook his head slowly with a smile.

"No, dad, it wasn't your fault."

"I could have controlled it… and if it wasn't for me it couldn't have done this to you in the first place."

"No, you probably couldn't have controlled it and if you hadn't been there it would have probably possessed Sam and unless you developed the power to rip someone's heart out with your mind and forgot to tell me, it would have done the same thing to me through Sammy."

John took Sam's seat feeling more comfortable now and smiled.

"So much for trying to apologize," he said and Dean smiled back. As if on queue, Sam reentered the room with a cup of coffee.

"That was suspiciously quick," commented Dean.

"Hey, dad, I was stopped by a couple of doctors…" he said deliberately ignoring Dean, "I managed to push 'em away but they are pretty suspicious about Dean's wounds and obviously your leg too… they didn't ask before 'cause well… you know," he said glancing at Dean. "I can't believe I forgot to think about a story…"

"Don't worry I have one already," replied John quickly. "Anyway, I should go talk to the doctor now before they think something's going on. You two boys catch up and no fights allowed."

"Yes, sir," replied both instinctively and Sam chuckled lightly. It was just so good to have Dean back. As their father left Dean scanned Sam's bandages.

"So how did you guys get hurt anyway… the last thing I remember was the demon getting out of dad's body."

"Car crash," replied Sam simply.

"What?"

"Car crash," he repeated, "a huge truck came out of nowhere and hit us from the side… I'm telling you, man, the driver was possessed."

"Did you see him? Did you see the driver?"

"No."

"Then how do you know he was possessed?"

"I just kinda… felt it, you know?" the look Dean gave him confirmed that he actually didn't know, but Sam went on anyway. "But see, the weird thing is… after that night- well when I woke up here, I felt like they were all gone."

"What do you mean? What's gone?" Dean asked sounding annoyed, obviously concerned about his brother's 'sixth sense' that he just couldn't get to feel comfortable with. Sam felt a pang of guilt; they shouldn't be talking about this… they should be laughing and enjoying the fact that they were all alive, but Dean had to know.

"The demons, Dean, they're gone," he said, "The visions, the dreams, all gone… and so I did some research and found out that there have been no more possessions at all since that night."

Dean frowned digesting the new piece of information. They were definitely up to something then, there was no way they would suddenly decide to leave them alone and go back to Hell. No, something was going on, something big. But fatigue and pain were taking over and he knew whatever they would do could wait until tomorrow. However, another distressing thought crossed his mind before he shut his eyes.

"Hey Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"This crash… how bad was it on my car?" Sam had known this time would come rather soon. He opened his mouth but didn't say anything, lost for words. How could he say it without making it sound like the worst news Dean would ever hear? He loved his car almost like another member of the family. At Sam's silence Dean nodded slowly, understanding the meaning of the extended gap and looked away from his brother.

"Sorry, man…"

"That's alright," he said after a few seconds smirking slightly at Sam, "she died protecting us, like the heroine she was," he added dramatically causing Sam to laugh quietly, again thanking God for giving him his brother back.

* * *

"Dean! Wake up, son," whispered John in Dean's ear a few days later. Reluctantly, after having slept for over fourteen hours, his son opened his eyes confused. "Dean, what did you do with your necklace?" 

"Huh?" was Dean's only reply.

"The necklace, Dean, the doctors said you didn't have it on you when you got here."

Suddenly, Dean was wide-awake and instinctively reached for his neck and found nothing. Not that he was expecting to find it, after all only two people knew about the real importance of that little golden object and they were both in that hospital room.

"I… I dunno I never took it off… did you ask Sam?"

"No, you know he asks too many questions, and he'll want to know the whole truth."

"True… but we've only got like…" he paused to think, "crap! We've got a week left before that demon can do something, dad, maybe it's time we tell Sammy," argued Dean. And then he remembered Sam had said the man driving the truck had been possessed and after that there were no more possessions. Dean had wondered why the demon hadn't killed them then when it had the chance but now he knew why. It had used the accident to steal the necklace, which in Dean's mind was far worse than having been killed.

John seemed to consider his son's suggestion for a moment and then nodded.

"You're right, he'll have to come with us in any case. Anyway, we can't waste a moment, Dean, we'll check you out of the hospital and explain everything to Sam in the car. I'll go talk to the doctor. You get ready, understood?"

"Yes, sir," he said and as his father left, he fought the sharp pain in his chest and the dizziness that came as soon as he sat up. He remained in that position to catch his breath for a few seconds and then proceeded to stand and get dressed as fast as he possibly could. _Can't waste a moment_.

That had been a direct order and Dean did not intend to disobey.

* * *

"Okay now, are you gonna tell me what all this is about?" 

Silence.

"Dad, Dean should be in the hospital, I mean he can't even walk on his own! And where the hell are we going?" Sam was becoming angrier every second and John meant to answer every one of his questions but he didn't know where to start. He stared straight at the road ahead. Sam sat in the passenger seat and Dean dozed off in the back reminding Sam all too well of the night after the demon attacked them almost two months ago.

"It happened before you were born," John began after a few minutes, regaining Sam's attention, who had gone for an 'I'm-not-talking-to-you-until-you-spit-it-out' approach. Childish, but it worked. "I guess you can say my first encounter with the supernatural happened before that demon killed your mother," he took a deep breath and checked the rear view mirror and saw Dean was asleep. Sam stared at him shocked, urging him to go on.

"When Dean was about three years old I started hearing things in the house… steps, voices, lights going in and out and everything. It wasn't from one day to the next, it developed pretty slowly and I made myself believe I was imagining things… I was pretty much a skeptic about the paranormal back then… if only I had known…"

"So what happened?" asked Sam gently. His father seemed to be talking to himself at this point, too lost in thought to pay much attention to Sam.

"One morning I woke up after hearing your mom's voice… she sounded so scared I jumped out of bed and ran to the kitchen where the noises came from and what I saw…" he hesitated, pausing for so long Sam thought he wouldn't continue.

"Dean was standing there facing Mary with a sharp kitchen knife in his tiny hand… but the way he held it… firmly and expertly as if he knew exactly what he could do with the weapon."

"He… Dean… attacked mom?"

"Tried to. And it wasn't Dean; he had been possessed by a demon. Mary and me had to tie him firmly to his bed… and she wouldn't stop crying… and Dean's voice… that sweet little voice he had… it was gone and the demon spoke for him… and I only realized who this demon was about two months ago-"

"You mean, it was _the _demon!" interrupted Sam loudly, but John didn't seem to hear.

"…And it made him hurt himself… we were getting desperate, no priests could help… they were saying they never saw anything like it, they told us to keep praying… and then I met Jim Murphy. He was the only one who never gave up and finally he created Dean's necklace and told me that as long as he wore it, no demon, not even this one would get into him and I took it and as soon as I put it around Dean's neck, the demon was gone. We almost lost your brother back then, the demon had hurt him so much…"

"A few days later I asked Pastor Jim to tell me what he had found out and all about the necklace too. And what he told me… sometimes I wish I hadn't asked… when I faced the demon before you and Dean found me was one of those times. First he told me that what the demon had done was only a test… which explained why it had possessed him at such a young age… he was _testing_ him to see if Dean was the right one and Jim said that because it didn't leave until we found a way to exorcise it, it meant that Dean had been chosen."

"Chosen for what, dad?" asked Sam impatiently, after his dad became quiet.

"Sammy, tell me something," said John unexpectedly glancing at his youngest. "What's Dean's dream? What does he want for himself?"

"Dad-"

"Answer the question, Sammy and I'll be able to answer yours."

"I… I don't know… but dad how has this got anything to do with that demon?"

"To become more powerful and rule the land of the living, the demon needs a human body; not to possess it but to _become_ it. And this human has to be the exact opposite of a demon for it to work. Jim had heard of some children being referred to as Angels Born on Earth. They aren't real angels, obviously, but these children are born pure, with no sin in their souls unlike the rest of us, who are born with the Original Sin. Now, that doesn't mean the kid's a saint, but he just isn't like other people. Most of these children change through the years, though, becoming just like everyone else, which is why the demon needed to test Dean before he could be sure his adult body would be as useful as the child's. Now, back to my question, the reason you don't know what Dean truly wants is because he never thinks of himself. His only ambition in life has been to protect this family, to keep us together, to make sure we're - as in you and me and not him – that we're happy… even when he was a kid he could always hold the three of us together better than I ever could… to this day, Dean ignores his own wishes and dreams in order to guard us, protect us. Like the other children who were Angels Born on Earth for their whole lives, his happiness depends on other people's happiness and safety and that's enough for him."

"Like… some sort of… _guardian angel?_" asked Sam unable to believe his own words.

"Yeah, I guess you could call it that," replied his father, "now, Dean has no idea, Sam, I never told him and he never asked. He was content with the order '_wear this necklace and never **ever **take it off'_. I told him what would happen if he did and he never questioned me about it. And Sam," he added, "if this thing takes hold of his body, there's no way to take it back, once it becomes Dean, your brother is dead, gone forever. And the world and humanity will become Hell on Earth pretty damn literally."

Sam looked at his brother's peaceful reflection. He still slept, completely unaware of how rare a person he was, his arms folded over his wound and his head resting on the window. Sam began to think back on all those months road tripping together. Realization struck him as he remembered Dean saying to him once _"I figured our family's so screwed to hell, maybe we can help some others." _And also as he remembered how children seemed to love his brother straight away and how Dean could see right through them. He remembered how in Nebraska he had tried to offer his only chance to be healed by simply suggesting, _"Maybe you should just pick someone else."_ But above all, he couldn't remember a single time in his life he had felt his brother wasn't watching his back. A guardian angel.

_"Even when I couldn't count on anyone, I could always count on you," _he remembered himself confessing. He had never thought about it twice. Never actually reflected on his brother's ways before. Now his father had just made his respect and appreciation for his older brother rise even more if that was possible.

_But it took dad to tell me to even notice, _Sam thought feeling a slight twinge of guilt.

He turned back to look at his father, thinking of the last few words he had uttered.

"But dad… that means that thing can attack any minute now!"

"No, Sammy, the protection the necklace has over Dean remains inside him for exactly two months after it's taken off. Nothing can touch him until then… thank God for Jimmy's brains," he smiled looking up as if seeing his late friend's face floating above him.

"That gives us a week to find it, dad, and how are we gonna do that if the demon's got the necklace?"

"No idea… I dunno yet but I think I know where we should start looking for some answers."

"Where?" snapped Sam as usual, suddenly realizing he still had no clue as to where they were going.

"Back to Salvation, we'll check Jim's stuff, his books and everything there is to know about this evil son of a bitch… as a last resort we might even find how to make another necklace… or maybe this time we can come up with something a little subtler than the nasty golden bug or whatever the damn thing is supposed to look like."

**A/N: First of all, thanks so much for the reviews... keep 'em coming, keep 'em coming:) Now, this chapter was so damn mushy it actually makes me laugh but hey... hope you guys liked it! Once again thanks for the reviews, they make a girl's self-esteem rise lol... I'm cool, I swear.**

_**Random Note:** Funny how I seem to think Exam Leave is the right time to right stories... maybe I do it to avoid revision... oh well..._


	3. The Opposite

**If you love sexydisclaimers as much as I do, go to Chapter 1and check it.**

**Chapter 3 – The Opposite **

By the time they arrived in Salvation, Iowa, Dean had woken up and seemed to have gained some energy. He insisted on helping with the search and after what seemed like another never-ending argument, it was agreed he would go to the church and distract the current priest there while they looked for Pastor Jim's belongings, since Dean wouldn't be able to move much anyway.

"Wouldn't they have moved his stuff away already?" asked Dean not liking the fact that he would have to come up with a bunch of sins that he might or might not have committed and tell them to some unknown priest so that Sam and their father could sabotage the innocent priest's office.

"Trust me, they wouldn't have found the important stuff. Only me and a few others knew about the secret compartment in that office. If there ever was anything useful, it will be in there. There's a back door to Jim's office. Sam and I will go that way or it will definitely look suspicious if we all go into the church together, so, Dean you go through the main entrance and then you know what to do."

"Yes, sir."

With that, Dean made his slow and painful way towards the church. It was already dark and the cold of the night seemed unnatural to his weakened body. He finally made it to the door gratefully, expecting the insides of the church to be warmer than its surroundings.

The immense glass stained window was the first thing his hazel eyes fixed upon. The figures' distorted faces that might have looked beautiful and colorful with sunlight filtering through them now seemed cruel and cold. Cold like the church. His earlier hopes to find the place warmer were shattered as he walked between the rows of seats; in fact, inside seemed to be colder than outside.

He walked slowly towards the confessionary at the side of the church, obscured by the shadows of statues and paintings, but the closer he walked, the colder he felt and he knew there was something wrong.

Instinctively, he slipped his hand inside his jacket to grab the gun he had brought as a precaution.

"There's no need for that, Dean," said a strangely familiar voice that even though it came from inside the confessionary, echoed loudly throughout the church. Dean froze on the spot, knowing the supernatural feeling all too well, his hold on the gun tighter than ever. "Come, son, you wanted to confess, didn't you? You've changed so much since your last visit, and yet you're still the same boy," said the voice warmly in an almost loving tone.

At these words something inside Dean made him leave the gun in its place and a very empty hand came out of his jacket. He took a few steps forward, feeling weaker than ever and he heard himself mutter almost inaudibly.

"Pastor… Pastor Jim?"

"Come and kneel before God, Dean, and tell me what's bothering you."

As if he had no control whatsoever over his body, he did as he was told and kneeled in the tiny wooden compartment. A slim wall separated him from the entity, and he could see no silhouette formed where the priest's head should have been.

"Pastor Jim," began Dean, having no idea where the words were coming from, but he let them form anyway because that's what felt right at the moment, "the necklace you made, it was stolen by a demon…a subject of _the_ demon, we think. My dad, Sammy and I are going to do whatever it takes to prevent them from turning this world into Hell, but please," he begged, "we need your help."

"Your father and Sammy won't find anything in that cabinet, son, that one necklace is the only way," he said, not accusingly, but Dean couldn't tell if the spirit was angry or simply narrowing their options. The fact that it knew his father and brother were going through his things didn't surprise Dean in the least.

"Terrific," he murmured sarcastically, "So… what can we do now?"

"The demon's worst enemy is his opposite, Dean," he said very slowly. Something about his voice made every single word he uttered stick inside Dean's long-term memory instantly. "But light has to go where dark is in order to illuminate the shadows."

"What? What do you mean 'his opposite'?" There was no answer. "Pastor Jim?" But Dean already knew he was gone.

Pastor Jim had vanished; he knew because the cold had lifted considerably, which made him realize how much he was shivering. Although the temperature had risen, he was freezing to an almost unbearable degree. He wrapped his arms around his chest to try and warm himself up a little and walked out of the empty church at the same time his father and Sam, who carried a pile of books in his arms, walked out of the backdoor of the priest's office. Their forms looked slightly blurred; everything did lately. All he wanted was to reach the back seat of his father's car and sleep.

"Nothing!" greeted John furiously. "Nothing but books that Sammy here thought might be useful at some point but the way I see it, we're back to square one."

"No we aren't," said Dean after a few seconds, startling both men. "I… I saw… well, Pastor Jim…" but the complete fluency that had invaded him when he talked to the priest had abandoned him entirely replaced by pain and fatigue. His balance failed him and before he knew it Sam's strong arms were the only reason he hadn't landed face first on the ground. "I'm fine, Sam… listen to me, Pastor… Pastor Jim, he-"

"Shhh, it's ok, Dean," Sam soothed. "We'll find a place close by so you can rest, okay?"

"But Sam-"

"You can tell me everything when we get there, alright?"

Dean nodded slowly and forced himself to walk towards the car, but the more he walked, the more he realized he was laying his weight on Sam and his legs simply moved out of instinct.

* * *

"How's he doing?" said a familiar voice that seemed to be miles away.

"He's got kind of a high fever, but he should be alright," said another voice, much nearer this time. It sounded like Sammy's all too familiar complaints. "…Shouldn't have let him out in the cold… I told you he should have stayed in the car"

"Dude, no way. I found out more stuff than you did, college boy," Dean said weakly as he opened his eyes, which was hard, due to the damp towel over his forehead and eyes. Dean was amused as he saw Sam turn around about to argue back and then changed his expression to one of shocked surprise.

"You're awake!"

"Yeah, some people were kinda talking just a tad loud… anyway now you _are_ gonna listen to me," he said sitting up and doing his best effort to keep a straight face. He really had got out of the hospital far too early: his heart was still weak and the simple unconscious reflex that was once breathing became a necessary torture. If he got nervous or made an effort that made his heart beat faster than usual, the pain was agonizing. He felt like a granny and he hated it. He was used to being the strong one and he liked it that way. All that made Dean feel better was that he had information the others didn't and so he still proved useful instead of just an annoying piece of luggage.

"When I entered the church I found no one, see, but I went to the confessionary anyway to check if I could find the padre in there…" he told the story with as much detail as possible, including the changes in temperature just to convince them that it had been in fact Jim Murphy's spirit.

"The 'demon's opposite', huh?" said John quoting Pastor Jim's last words and exchanging a glance with Sam.

"Yeah," replied Dean, missing the interchange, "I didn't get anything he said but hey, if I've learned anything in this job is that you gotta listen to the spirits that don't go throwing you against walls and furniture."

"And you're sure you weren't just… you know… delirious?" asked Sam eyeing him worriedly. "I mean, you did have a fever so it could have been just that."

"Trust me, Sammy, that _so_ wasn't a mirage."

"We'll talk about this tomorrow, now I want you to go to sleep. Sam, that's enough sleepless nights for the rest of the year. You too, Dean, we need you in shape as soon as possible."

But Dean's eyes were already shut and he seemed to have fallen asleep already. Sam took off his jacket, jeans and shoes and slid in the bed next to his brother's. He watched Dean's chest rise and fall forty times before exhaustion took over. This habit had become like counting sheep after the incident with the demon.

* * *

Sam's heart was racing and he could feel the alarming heartbeats in his ears and in his pounding head. One deep breath. He knew he only needed one deep breath and the uncomfortable feeling would be gone. But his body felt numb and as much as he tried to breathe deeply, it was impossible and he knew what would happen next. He had learned to recognize these as the signs that told him he would have one of _those_ nightmares and he had never been able to wake up before the images entered his head, so what made him think he could stop them now?

_His brother Dean stood in the midst of chaos. His lone figure being the only source of color, for his surroundings were only made up of various shades of black and gray. There were others there. But Sam couldn't see them, because they were nothing but shapeless black shadows. They screamed in sadness and agony as they circled his brother and then went on their own ways. There was some kind of colorless thunderstorm and the lightning was hitting every spot with a frequency Sam had never seen before, sometimes getting so close to Dean that Sam wanted to shout a warning, but no sound came from his mouth. _

_However, the older Winchester sat on one of the countless black rocks that formed the broken ground oblivious to it all. His knees were pressed against his chest and his chin rested on them as his hands hugged his legs protectively. His gaze was lost in the chaos, tears rolling freely down his cheeks. Sam had never seen him so vulnerable in his life and he wished he could talk to him, cheer him up… anything to make him feel better. Suddenly the vision was gone and flashes of Dean's bloodied chest as more blood dripped from his mouth, just like that night two months ago, but not in the abandoned house. Sam was seeing this familiar and hated vision in this colorless setting. The crimson blood brighter than ever against the dull background. _

_The vision lasted less than a second and then the next thing he saw was a small boy with huge blue eyes. The eyes were the only color the boy possessed; his clothes, his skin and hair were a mix of dark and light shades of black like everything else around him. No… there was something else… something the boy was holding was also colored._

_It was Dean's necklace. _

_The boy was staring straight at Sam holding out the amulet as if offering it to him. After that there were mixed flashes of chaos and sadness and evil and all along Dean's voice repeated: "Dad and Sammy left me… they don't need me… I'm alone… I'm alone… I'm alone…" _

_And again he saw Dean sitting on the rock in the same position, only this time he was rocking back and forth repeating those words and blood covered his chest and dripped from his mouth. Sam could see Dean's heart being ripped out by some unseen force but there was no expression of pain in his pale face. There was no expression at all. And he could hear in the background Pastor Jim's voice: "…light has to go where dark is in order to_ _illuminate the shadows."_

Sam woke up covered in a cold sweat. Now he knew what Jim Murphy had tried to tell them.

* * *

"If that wasn't Hell, then I dunno what Hell could possibly be," replied Sam quite annoyed at his father's constant pacing. Dean sat opposite him on his bed, his tired eyes fixed on him with concern. Sam looked back at him, "But I don't get it… how does Pastor Jim expect us to literally go to Hell and kill the demon?"

"Maybe it was just a normal nightmare… as in… naked-in-class kind of nightmare, remember them?" tried his brother, not believing his own words any more than Sam.

"No, it was too detailed… but it's impossible! No one can go 'visit' Hell and then come back. And even if there was a way, I'm not letting you go there, Dean."

"Well, first of all it was _your_ dream that picked me to go for some reason, but if anyone else wants to join me in Hell, you're very welcome."

John stopped pacing and Sam's eyes widened. Both had completely forgotten Dean still had no idea that Pastor Jim's words (_"the demon's worst enemy is his opposite but light has to go where dark is in order to illuminate the shadows"_)meant that Dean was the opposite, which made him the light to illuminate the shadows, in other words, he was the one who was supposed to go to Hell and end it all.

"Dean, there is something you need to know," began John, finding it awkward to tell for the second time in two days a story he had kept a secret to himself for years.

* * *

"_O-kay,_" said Dean smiling uncomfortably and looking from his father to his brother, fully expecting Sam to start laughing and say something along the lines of "you so fell for it!" but Sam's expression couldn't have been more serious and there was no hint of a smile appearing in either man. He looked at Sam for support.

"Dude, that just so can't be right. Sam, c'mon; _me? _Some kind of angel thing?" But Sam seemed to have found the floor extremely interesting at that precise moment.

"Well the demon thinks it _is_ right and that's good enough for me," finished John glaring at Dean's disbelieving smile, which began fading. Finally, he sighed, causing a hand to reach up towards his wound involuntarily.

"Alright, then, to Hell it is."

**A/N: Hey again dudettes and dudes (that is if there are any guysreading a Supernatural fanficlol)... thanks so much for the awesomereviews! I love them so much I thought of replying to every single one of them, but then I thought that it's the same message for all of you: thank you SO much for actually being interested in my writing and taking your time to give me feedback for it... so um... enough pretty andemotional language, keep writing reviews:)**

_**Random Note: **As Dave Matthews Band would say, "Celebrate we will, 'cause life is short but **WE'LL DEFINITELY HAVE A SECONDSUPERNATURALSEASON!**" (notice the amazing sibilance right there) - why did I use DMB lyrics to say it? no idea, the song just came to my mind._


	4. Jokes and Songs

**Disclaimer: **"Oh no! Lord above! There is no disclaimer here! I think I will sue!"

"Wait! Oh sweet Mother of God, I see it, I see it!"

"Where? Gee, I can't seem to find it, will you help me?"

"No. Go to Chapter 1 and look at it. And it's one pretty disclaimer if I've ever seen one too!"

**Chapter 4 – Jokes and Songs**

"No way, dad! Absolutely no way!"

"Sam, it's what Jim was telling us to do. We don't do this, everyone's gonna die."

"There has to be another way, we've still got four days left, we'll find another way."

"No, Sam, there _is _no other way-"

"Look," interrupted Dean looking at his brother, "dad says there's a way to send me to Hell temporarily… and I'm willing to try it, if it means that some freak devil won't use my face to kill everybody else."

Sam stared from Dean to his father as if they had gone completely insane.

"Don't worry, Sammy," Dean tried, smiling at his little brother, "it's just like any other gig, only this time instead of them bugging the hell out of us, we'll bug the hell out of them. It'll be okay, you'll see. Plus, if I don't try, you know what's gonna happen? Exactly the same thing that will happen if I fail, so we don't lose anything by giving it a shot."

Sam looked down, unconvinced. He hated letting Dean go on his own. He hated his father's lack of concern and excess of focus on the task and most of all he hated his psychic abilities for showing him that dream. But he had clearly lost the battle; when his father and brother decided to do something, there was no way to make them rethink their options.

"Dean, I saw what's gonna happen to you… I told you both already! It's gonna do the same thing it did to you two months ago in Missouri, and this time, how do we know if the wounds-"

"Wounds are the least of our worries right now," said John looking through one of the books Sam had brought back from Jim Murphy's office. "Turns out your books were pretty useful after all, Sammy."

"What are you saying, dad? How can a wound like _that_ be 'the least of our worries'?" demanded Sam, and both brothers stared at their father quizzically; Sam worried out of his mind, Dean simply curious.

"Look, it says here," he pointed with his index finger somewhere in the middle of one of the yellowing pages. Dean and Sam approached to stand behind at either side of their father. "It says that because only his soul, and not the body, would be sent to Hell, any injury suffered there shouldn't affect the body."

"Where are you reading that?" asked Dean trying to focus his eyes on the ancient indecipherable writing.

"It's in Latin," explained Sam.

"Oh… right, I thought I was going blind now too…so uh… how do I get back up here?"

"Once you've got the necklace you will return immediately to the spot where you appeared at first. You have to get back in less than an hour, though," he said reading further down the text.

"I thought you wanted me to kill this demon."

"No. Not in his own territory. Dean," he added looking straight into his son's hazel eyes. "I mean it, get back to that spot right after you get the necklace back. That's an order."

"Yes, sir," he replied automatically.

"What if Dean for some reason can't make it back before one hour?" asked Sam suddenly. Dean had been thinking about that too but hadn't wanted to ask assuming what the answer would be.

John didn't reply for a while and looked from Sam to Dean.

"Just make it back before that, do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir," he repeated.

"Anyway, you boys should rest tonight; according to the book we can't start this spell until 06 in the morning with 06 minutes and 06 seconds exactly," he added. "That gives us almost twelve hours. I'll wake you up at five to set everything up."

With that, he left his boys' room and walked towards his own next door. Though worried as he was, it would be the first time he'd have a good night's sleep in a long time.

* * *

Sam's carefree laughter was so loud he thought the entire motel would hear it. 

"Man, that's so messed up!" he exclaimed cheerfully, wiping the tears from his eyes.

"I know, right? I swear that chick was insane," chuckled Dean, concluding the anecdote he had just shared with Sam. Their father had left them alone fifteen minutes ago and although they were both lying in their respective beds, exhausted and with the lights off, neither truly wanted to sleep. It was something they had always done before an important day as a way to calm their nerves. And in this case, as it had been before other dangerous hunts, to spend quality time with each other just in case something went wrong.

They had never admitted it of course. They had never even talked about this habit even though they had been doing it for as long as they could remember. Both had been relieved to find that the routine hadn't died away after Sam's two years in Stanford.

It had a couple of unspoken rules, such as no paranormal topics allowed and no saying "good night" or "we should sleep" either. The talk would stop on its own, slowly fading away as each brother fell comfortably asleep.

Calming down his laughter, Sam remembered a similar story.

"You know, once in Stanford," he began, "well- the thing is Jess always had a pretty bad temper, it was damn easy to get her pissed and she would always pace around the room shouting to herself and doing these growling noises… it was the funniest thing. So one day, she couldn't find this skirt she wanted to wear and so she started doing all that again and saying something about how her friends always stole her clothes and never gave them back, so I got the camera when she wasn't looking and left it filming on the night stand in our room where she was looking for the skirt. Later I was like, 'Jess, you gotta see this,' so we watched the video and we just couldn't stop laughing… all you could see was Jess going in and out of the shot freakin'… _striding_ from one side of the room to the other mumbling how irresponsible her friends were and growling randomly… ah good times…" he said between his own nostalgic chuckles and his brother's laughter. "And like, anyway, it turned out _she_ had thrown the skirt under the bed the last time she'd worn it."

Dean had to try to control his own loud laughter at this point because his chest had started to hurt agonizingly again.

"Oh, God the girls we go out with," he commented making both of them laugh lightly.

"Hey, Dean," said Sam after the chuckles had died out.

"Yeah?"

"Take care tomorrow, alright? Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"Whoa, wait, does that mean I should run into a fire because the 'demon's still in there' and then when I'm dead say something like 'I could have taken him'?" asked Dean imitating his younger brother's voice and chuckling weakly. He could feel Sam's dark eyes glaring at him even though he couldn't see them. "Don't worry, Sammy, I'll be okay. And I promise that unlike _some other_ _people_ I won't try anything stupid."

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

Unknowingly, they mirrored each other's smirk and fell asleep at peace.

* * *

Sam woke up a couple of hours later for no apparent reason. Or so it seemed until he noticed his brother's bed was empty. Panicking, he jumped out of bed only to hear a voice singing from the little living room that was separated from their bedroom by a thin wall. The voice was definitely Dean's. He had turned on the radio and one of his old favorites, _Dust in the Wind_ by Kansas was playing at a very low volume. Dean was melodically singing along like Sam had never witnessed before. 

Usually, Dean would fast forward this song in his Impala because he said he needed something more energetic for the road. If he ever sang along to any other classic rock song, although surprisingly melodiously and on tune, he had usually done it loudly and carelessly to annoy Sam or to make him laugh by singing him an extremely romantic verse in a melodramatic tone.

His singing had never made Sam feel so calm, safe and soothed like it did now. Wishing it to continue, he stayed hidden behind the door listening to his every word, every change in tune, and every breath he took to sing the next words.

Finally, Sam decided to open the door and found his brother lying on the couch, arms folded over his wound in the same way he had done in the abandoned house in Missouri. His eyes were closed in a pained expression, but he kept singing until he reached the end of the song. Sam realized Dean was using the song as a distraction against the pain and he knew he needed his painkillers immediately, but he didn't dare interrupt him.

Only did he walk into his older brother when the song was completely over.

"C'mon, Dean, let's get you back to bed."

Dean moaned loudly, not even bothering to open his eyes as Sam pulled him up. His fever had risen again and he was shivering uncontrollably.

"Just a couple of steps, your bed's right there, Dean. Then you can have the painkillers and you'll be as good as new." Finally, he managed to get a half-conscious Dean in bed, gave him his usual painkillers, put a damp towel on his forehead and went back to his own bed. However, his brother's voice made him turn back to kneel on the floor next to Dean's head.

"Sammy…" whispered Dean in his delirious state, "remember… remember that I used to sing that to you whenever you were scared? I think you were about two… and it always made you calm down no matter what was worrying you… I always tried to imitate singing whatever dad listened to and you just seemed to like that song… I wish-"

"Shhh… you need to sleep now-"

"I wish things could go back to the way they were before… with mom and without demons…"

"So do I, Dean, so do I."

Sam lay on his bed unable to remember about what Dean had just told him, but he believed him even if he was raving because of the fever. He knew it was true because after almost an entire year of fear and uncertainty, he had felt completely safe at that moment only by hearing his brother's soothing voice.

Sleep proved to be impossible until Dean began breathing more regularly and only then Sam began counting the rise and fall of his brother's chest forty times before sleeping again.

**A/N: Yeah shortish, I know, but hey. Not much action either, but I thought it would be nice to add a little normality to these poor boys' screwed up lives... especially considering what's coming up in later chapters. Last night I finished writing chapter 7 and I think it will end with chapter 8, though you never know what might go through my freaky head as I write it and maybe I'll change the original idea completely cuz that happened like majorly as I wrote chapter 7. Anyway, thanks a lot for your reviews, I still love them more than I love your mom. Yeah. Thank you so much for reading my story and your little comments and nice or not so nice words are obviously still very much appreciated, so please keep reviewing!**

_**Random Note: **English exams today. My favorite. :(_


	5. Lost in the Desert

**Disclaimer: **You're... a disclaimer.

**Chapter 5 – Lost in the Desert**

Dean lay on his bed, arms and legs tied firmly down, making any kind of movement impossible. Sam lit an equal number of white and red candles around him while his father drew symbols around the bed.

"Okay," said John after their quiet work was done. "Now we need to wait until the right time and then I'll read out the verses. It's a lot like an exorcism 'cause your soul is gonna try and leave your body, which will be painful, so we have to tie you up- any sudden move can screw it all up."

Dean didn't answer. It was already proving to be a bad day for his injuries; the fever was still high and he was freezing, not to mention what seemed like fire burning inside his chest. He nodded weakly, his eyes glazed and unfocused.

"Dad, are you sure-"

"Yes, Sam, we will do it today. Remember he won't be feeling anything when his soul separates from his body; it won't hurt him in Hell."

Both absently looked at the clock on the nightstand.

06.04.34

Sam only stood there, listening intently to his brother's weak efforts to keep breathing. John stood there too, but he was reading the verses in his mind oblivious to the rest of the world.

06.05.47

"Sam, stay with him, try to keep him calm."

"Okay," he said kneeling next to his brother, much like he had the night before.

06.06.01

Sam tenderly dried the cold sweat off Dean's forehead with the same damp towel.

06.06.02

John looked at his sons, Dean smirked cockily at Sammy to reassure him, and John had never been so proud.

06.06.03

06.06.04

06.06.05

06.06.06

As the digits changed from five to six, John began reading out the words loudly and clearly. Sam noticed Dean gasp and look straight up at the ceiling as soon as the first words were uttered. As he kept reading, Dean's body started convulsing and the longer John spoke, the louder where his screams. Sam looked up at his father with begging eyes, but John Winchester wouldn't budge.

Sam squeezed Dean's hand tightly as if that would keep him alive. And a grim thought occurred to him; _how are we gonna know if his soul left to Hell like we planned or if the pain actually killed him? _He shook his head quickly and concentrated in the task at hand. He prayed to God to help his brother, but other than that, there was nothing he could do.

Suddenly, Dean's eyes widened blindly and his body tensed as his mouth shot open taking in one last suppressed breath and then he was gone. His abused muscles relaxed and his eyes unfocused.

Dean was gone.

_Remember he's not dead. He's not dead, he's not dead, he's not dead. He'll be back in an hour and all of this will be over_, thought Sam unable to look away from his brother's pale, lifeless face.

They stayed that way in silence for what seemed like days until Sam managed to look up at his father. John looked as traumatized as Sam, his eyes locked on his eldest son's unmoving body, at the verge of tears. He seemed to be having as much difficulty as Sam to convince himself that Dean would be back.

"C'mon, Sammy," he whispered finally, "let's get your brother a bit more comfortable."

Together they untied him and tugged him under the covers. John reached with a shaky hand towards Dean's eyes. He hesitated and looked at Sam, who pressed his lips together, looked around the room nervously with tears in his eyes and sighed finally nodding his agreement. Gathering up all his courage and convincing himself Dean wasn't dead, John laid his hand on his son's forehead and gently slid it down to close his eyes.

* * *

Dean woke up feeling better than he had in months. There was no physical pain and as for psychological, well, he had always known how to deal with that. Plus, emotional pain didn't make his reactions slower, or his fights less efficient, so he had learned to ignore it since very young. 

Looking around, he felt like he had been sucked into someone's sketch – everything seemed to be drawn by a pencil, colors being non-existent. And one hell of an ugly sketch it was too. Dean was in the middle of an infinite desert made up of large broken black rocks and hefound himself sittingon one of them, a strange symbol drawn around him. He vaguely remembered his father had drawn something around the bed back in the motel and he supposed this was it, and he would have to come back here in an hour if at least he wanted to see colors ever again.

Black shadows swam in the hot and humid air. As he stood up, a few of them surrounded Dean but didn't dare touch him. It was almost as if they were merely curious and wanted to get a closer look at the newcomer. It was then that Dean realized he was the only thing around here that possessed color. He seemed to be superimposed on a black and white photo. _Great. Exactly the kind of place where I wanna be easily spotted._

He noticed, as more shadows came to him that he felt different emotions with each one. Unexplained sadness would invade his soul with some, anger with others, but all he knew is that these feelings were never positive. Shivering a little in spite of the excruciating heat, he forced himself to walk on. There was not a moment to lose.

But where was he going? His surroundings seemed to expand forever with no sign of the demon or the necklace. Apart from the shadows, no one seemed to be around. And he only had an hour. Fifty-three minutes to be exact. And God, he hated deserts.

His hatred had been triggered by a hunt gone wrong when he was seventeen and Sam thirteen. They had gone on a hunt with their father to somewhere in Arizona, where they were supposed to investigate a case of disturbing murders that followed one hell of a pattern: a week after the victim's disappearance, their limbs or sometimes their head appeared randomly in a particular area of the desert. Well, it could be a psychopath, perhaps, the locals would say. What caught the Winchesters' attention though, was that every part returned had been grossly mutated- sometimes a head would have no mouth and an extra ear, like some sort of sick joke. No signs of surgery were found, which rejected the possibility of a human psycho-scientist experimenting on unwilling patients.

Deanhad thought back then that all he had to worry about was the creature that did this; he had never even considered the desert could turn into his worst enemy. Or Sammy's anyway.

The kid hadn't been feeling good for a week and the intense sun only made everything worse. Before they had even found the creature, Sam had collapsed and his father immediately ordered Dean to take him back to the motel. They were so far into the desert, though that he almost passed out himself on his way back, for it took him two hours to find the way back and then another two to actually get to the motel, all the while carrying Sam, giving him his own water and worried sick that his little brother might not make it back.

Now that he thought about it, this desert looked exactly like the one in Arizona, apart from the lack of color and the flying shadows, that is. The heat was becoming unbearable, just the way it was in that desert so long ago and Dean's heart was racing. _Calm down, you idiot, he's trying to mess with your worst memories, don't let him get to you, this isn't really happening. _

He closed his eyes for a moment to pull himself together and when he opened them, he had to make an effort not to scream.

The entire desert as far as he could see was full of grayish human remains that had been oddly modified in the most gruesome ways: half-decomposed arms with fingers protruding out of the shoulder, faces with three eyes, torsos connected to a head that faced backwards, reminding Dean sickly of the way someone would wrongly attach the head of a doll to its body. The shadows seemed to have multiplied and the emotions they were making him feel weren't helping the situation.

Suddenly, he spotted a young boy in the middle of the mess. He looked horrified at the sight and he seemed as scared as Dean felt. The boy looked up at him and the young Winchester was stunned by his clear blue eyes. Dean had been almost convinced that the kid was part of the entire illusion because he was as colorless as everything else, but at the moment he saw his eyes, he knew the boy was real, and he desperately needed the hunter's help. He looked at his watch, mildly amused at the fact that the earthly object still worked in Hell. Forty minutes left. He thought of his father's explicit orders, but he had to save the kid. He looked so genuinely frightened Dean figured it was impossible to think he was part of a trap.

Plus, hadn't Sam said he saw this same boy holding the necklace in his dream? _This can't be it; it's far too easy._

Taking a step forward, he noticed his body was far too heavy. Confused, he looked over his shoulder and realized he was carrying Sam just like he had in Arizona.

"Sam!" he cried, shocked.

_It's an illusion; don't pay attention, just rescue the kid! _But, was it just that? Sam was as colored as he was himself; what if the demon had found a way to do this to his brother? He couldn't risk leaving him, but he had to save the kid too. Shifting Sam's weight more comfortably on his back, he began to cross the long gap between himself and the child whose eyes seemed to have all hopes on him. And Dean had no intention of disappointing him.

* * *

Twenty minutes had passed since Dean had gone. Twenty long and mute minutes. His face was growing paler and his lips were turning blue. _Only forty more minutes, _thought Sam, still kneeling next to Dean's motionless body. John had pulled a chair close to the bed and sat staring at his son's face as if expecting him to wake up any minute now. 

"Hey, dad," said Sam breaking the long silence, his curiosity getting the better of him, "if this demon needs Dean, then why did it try to kill him back in Missouri?

John smiled, fondly stroking Dean's hair without taking his eyes off him.

"Because Dean pissed it off, I could feel it… I swear he's the only human being who'd ever manage to make a demon mad," he added chuckling. "Well that and also 'cause it was getting frustrated."

"Why?"

"'Cause it couldn't separate Dean from the necklace for long enough and it was running out of time. I think by the time it attacked your brother, it had completely abandoned its plan, focusing only on you and the other psychic kids… until this chance showed up, that is."

"Do you know what he wants with us? I mean the psychic people?"

"No, Sammy."

Silence fell again. John kept staring at Dean, as did Sam.

Sam shivered involuntarily, a sudden chill invading his body.

From one moment to the next he felt an extreme drop in temperature and for a second all Sam could see was black. The temperature felt incredibly high and then it dropped again making everything go back to normal.

Except for Sam.

The youngest Winchester had been trapped in his own body.

"Sam?" asked John taking his eyes away from Dean when he heard his youngest gasp. Sam stood motionless a few paces behind his father, his head lowered. "Sammy, what's wrong?"

The man raised his head slightly and John instinctively stood up from his seat taking a step back to shield Dean. Sam's eyes were as black as coal as he stared at his father with a blank expression. John was prepared to receive a blow of some kind but all Sam did was smirk at him evilly before saying,

"Now you'll know why we need people like little Sammy here alive." With that, he turned around and vanished like a spirit in front of John's eyes.

**A/N: Sup ma homies. Hope you like this chapter - if my idea of Hell reminds you of SinCity, I don't blame you lol! Anyways... I'm still enchanted by your pretty reviews... apartently I messed up the location of Pastor Jim's church I'm SO sorry! I hate messing up stuff like that but now it's too late to change it... oh well. Thanks a lot for telling me, JRAismine :) And thanks so much to all those reviewers who wished me luck in my exams! LOL I was not expecting that... they actually went pretty well I thought (yeah, cuz you so wanted to know that). Anyway... as usual, your comments would be appreciated.**

_**Random Note: **I really think Jensen Ackles should shave off that beard... he still looks damn fine though, but I'm just saying... :)_


	6. Fire and Water

**Disclaimer: "**Saving people! Hunting Things! The family disclaimer!"

**Chapter 6 – Fire and Water**

Every step he took it seemed like the kid was another step ahead, and Sam's body felt heavier the longer he walked.

Exhausted, Dean allowed his head to drop down from the child's blue eyes that were still fixed on him. As he looked straight down, he realized for the first time that his body, or rather his soul, was slightly transparent. How he hadn't noticed before, he had no idea.

"Huh," he muttered to himself mildly interested in his own lack of consistency. Dean had more pressing issues at the moment.

When he raised his head again, he couldn't see further than a meter.

There was smoke everywhere and Dean was thankful that his soul didn't need to breathe down here, because it was so thick, he was sure it would have suffocated him. Dean kept walking straight, convinced that the blue-eyed boy was still standing on the same spot.

But he couldn't ignore the fact that the appearance of smoke probably meant the appearance of something else as well. He stopped and gently laid Sam on the ground and scanned the area as far as he could see.

A tall and dark silhouette walked towards him quietly and casually, almost like a passerby. Dean tensed and stepped in front of Sam protectively. He stared intently at the figure until he could make out the dark, but colored shaggy hair, the outline of a familiar jacket and even the way he walked, almost the exact same way Dean walked himself.

Finally, the figure was close enough for him to distinguish those small, dark eyes and the familiar pearl-white wide grin.

"Sa-Sam?" he asked incredulously staring at the very corporeal version of his brother and he turned his head back to see the unconscious version on the floor.

"See that, Dean? That's what you've done to me. Why didn't you protect me? You swore you would," he said, his grin disappearing completely and fixing his puppy dog look on Dean. His voice sounded so sad and vulnerable. _Don't be stupid, this isn't Sam!_

Dean wanted to look away from his brother's eyes, there was something in them that wasn't right, but he found that he couldn't, no matter how hard he tried because Sam was keeping Dean's eyes fixed on his.

And all of a sudden, the desert had gained color; there was no smoke, no deformed limbs and no blue-eyed kid. Dean's body was now corporeal, but it wasn't the same. He was seventeen again.

Sam still lay on the ground also much younger, and the other Sam still stood; this time as transparent as a spirit.

"You killed me, Dean, I was sick and you knew it," it said looking down at Dean resentfully, "and then you couldn't even take me back."

"No… this isn't the way it happened, I took you back to the motel and you were fine," _what the hell am I doing? This is a trap! _His mind screamed at him. But it seemed so real and it really was Sam's body lying there. He kneeled down next to his little brother looking for a pulse, but his lips were already blue and he could feel his skin as cold as ice, even though the heat of the desert was almost unbearable. He felt like he was about to break down but then he remembered Sam's dream: hadn't he said Dean had been repeating that dad and Sam had left him? Sam had also said Dean seemed to be in some sort of trance, which could only mean this was some kind of twisted psychological test, and Dean was going to pass it.

He shook his head violently from side to side.

"You're not Sam, and this isn't his body," he said looking straight into the ghost's dark eyes.

"Okay so I'm not," he admitted simply and the colors of the desert where gone, the mutated limbs were back and the unconscious Sam had also disappeared, and so had the impenetrable smoke that had surrounded him earlier. He could see the blue-eyed boy had come closer to him.

_Dean 1, Sam-wannabe 0._

Somewhere along the lines reaching the little boy had become beating the demon.

Dean was shocked at how little this demon (or whatever it was) had fought to make him believe it was Sam. Didn't these things try to keep up their appearances for as long as they could?

"But you see…" _Ah, there it is: a 'but'._ "Sam's in here somewhere… funny how these psychic kids can do so much and they don't even try."

"What are you talking about?"

"Using some of Sam's unexplored abilities, I managed to disappear from that cheap motel and rematerialize myself down here in Hell… I mean how cool can this get? Father was right about these weird kids."

"You dragged Sam's body down here?" demanded Dean, fury starting to build up in his chest. "You son of a bitch, let him go, he has nothing to do with this-"

"Oh he does, of course he does!" Suddenly he laughed out loud. "You Winchesters really are the whole package, aren't you? Psychic Boy, Angel Boy, I mean what's next?"

"Just let him go," he said knowing it was useless but unable to keep the words from coming out of his mouth.

"Sorry, can't do that. Oh! Unless you want your brother dead that is," he smiled again, his eyes never leaving Dean's.

"What?"

"Human bodies can't come to Hell, it destroys them… your brother can, but only 'cause I'm here… if I 'let him go' he'll die."

"You son of a bitch," he said again. Dean knew his mission had just doubled. He still needed to get the necklace back but after that he would have to somehow take a possessed Sam back to the starting point and once back on the living land, he and his father would have to exorcise the demon before it could harm Sam up there.

_Fun place, this one._

* * *

John was frantically looking through every book Sam had brought from Jim Murphy's church, desperately searching for an answer that might bring Sam back with or without a demon inside him. But even if he managed to find out how to do it, he still didn't know if it would be safe for Sam. If the demon had taken him to Hell, which he suspected, he couldn't be sure if conjuring the demon would bring only the demon or Sam _and_ the demon still possessing him. John knew that no human body could touch Hell, so he couldn't take the risk of sucking the demon out of Sam's body while he was still there. 

Resting his elbows on the desk he was working at, he hid his face on his palms, at a loss of what step to take next. He glanced at his watch and saw horrified that Dean only had thirty minutes left. Somehow he felt that Sam only had that amount of time left too, and there was nothing he could do.

And when he least expected it, the answer came to him. Not from the books he was going through; there was nothing there. No, it came from his own experience, from things he had heard from friends and people he had met over his hunting years.

Diving through the mess of books and paper spread all over the room he found his journal. Impatiently, he flipped page after page until he found what he wanted, confirming his thoughts. Grabbing his car keys, he was starting up the engine of his truck in a matter of seconds.

He knew half an hour was nowhere near the time he needed to drive all the way from Salvation to Waterloo, get what he wanted and come back on time, but at the moment he was thankful that what he needed was at least in the same state. Normally he would need thirty minutes only to get there, but today he wouldn't take more than ten.

* * *

Dean was at a loss for what to do. The demon didn't do anything either, apparently waiting for the hunter to make his next move. 

A lightning storm had erupted everywhere as far as Dean could see. The long rays of electricity seemed to come from all directions, vertically and horizontally in mute and colorless chaos. Everything they hit disintegrated into millions of dust particles, but he knew they couldn't harm him; he didn't have a body after all.

What about the boy, though? He had seemed as colorless as everything else; didn't that make him part of this world?

Forgetting about the demon, Dean ran as fast as he could towards the kid who had started crying in fear, his little hands covering his ears. The boy's safety was all that mattered to Dean at the moment. However, he hadn't run more than five meters, when he felt something hit his shoulder roughly. A lightning. There was no pain, as he expected but he felt the demon's eyes fixed on him.

"That looks like it's gonna hurt later… when you go back up, I mean," it said smiling. "Your little brother's helping me control this storm… if you want to survive it and if you want Sammy to survive it, you'll go to that boy, get the necklace back and destroy it in front of me. Then, I swear I'll let you two leave safely." _That is until my father decides to pay you a visit on Earth_. "If you even try putting it around your neck, I swear I'll kill Sam before you even have time to take one step back."

"You people are really stooping low… using a hostage… even humans don't think it's _in_ anymore-" another lightning hit Dean's back this time. His father had said no wound here would hurt his body on Earth, but he doubted this situation had ever happened before and he knew this demon probably wasn't lying.

Turning back towards the boy, he walked straight forward and no lightning hit him again. He glanced at his watch. Twenty minutes left. Dean broke into a run.

* * *

"_Welcome to Waterloo, Iowa,"_ read the sign John almost blew out of its supporting post at the speed he was driving. He had taken exactly ten minutes and now he only planned on using five to complete his mission. 

He drove through the busy streets trying to dodge cars and people, which reminded him why he had always preferred the highway.

Taking a quick look at the map, he made his way towards George Wyth Memorial State Park. The sun was getting higher and warmer in the blue sky and he nervously looked at his watch again. A little under twenty minutes left.

"C'mon, c'mon," he muttered nervously. He forced his mind to think of the hunt that was coming ahead of him instead, hating to be so unprepared, but John had had no choice.

He was basing this trip only on things he had heard and books he had read but that had been a long time ago and he had never checked out the place himself. In any case, the reason he had come all the way to Waterloo was because of a certain local creature believed to have the power (after it was killed) to indirectly weaken a demon by following a ritual John had written in his diary. He didn't know if it would be enough to help his sons, but it was the most he could do. He knew Dean and Sam were together in Hell at the moment, Sam trapped in his own body and Dean as open and transparent as he could possibly be. _How ironic_, thought John sadly.

Dean had always been the one to trap himself, leaving a very convincing mask to the casual observer. John often let the mask deceive him when hearing Dean's gentle laughter, his jokes, the way he made John and Sam see that they were still a family; always the optimistic one.

Underneath, though, there was a man, always a man and never a boy, who cared about and understood their family situation far more than either John or Sam. There was a man with a responsibility, a job, which he understood perfectly well and it had nothing to do with the hunts. And often this man would feel lost, a failure and useless, but his mask never showed it if he could help it.

Sam, on the other hand, had always been as easy to read as a book. Dean had made sure to give him the childhood he never had so that Sam had freedom; so that Sam didn't end up trapped inside his own body like he had, and it had worked. John was always able to tell when his youngest son wasn't feeling well or when he was annoyed or angry. This had led to fights as Sammy grew up, which had always left wounds.

But these wounds were never as bad on Sam and John as they were on Dean, who had to listen to the hateful but meaningless words they threw at one another. But that wasn't what caused the real pain; no, that came when he had to listen to his own name being used by both parties to their own advantage.

Dean had always managed to smile anyway and throw in a joke or anything to change the topic so that they would forget the fight for that day at least, solving the problem. That had worked until Sam was about fifteen. After that he had to use everything he had learned from his father to appear authoritative and in control to stop them from fighting by saying a few firm words at both, but always defending Sammy nonetheless. Therefore, no matter what his tactic was, he always managed to save the day.

That is exactly whyJohn had come all the way to Waterloo in ten minutes; because he knew that as long as Dean and Sam were together, Dean would figure out what to do if John threw in a little help. He would do it for Sam.

John parked his truck amongst trees and bushes, very out of sight from tourists and families that would surely be visiting the park today and ran into the forest always making sure no guards where around. All that mattered now was to find the creature. If he was wrong, and everything he had heard was some legend made up by a group of bored teenagers, Dean and Sam would have to get out of this one on their own.

**A/N: Hey you sexy beasts - once again, thanks for all the wonderful reviews and I hope you liked this chapter... only a couple more to go! I'm also working on a second story set a few years after _the _demon is killed so I'm hoping you guys will like that too. Once I'm absolutely sure I have a concrete, fun and original idea for it, I'll start posting it after I've written a few chapters, like I did for this story. Anyway... lol I find it so funny that people are responding to my "random note" thing...and for those of you who replied to the last one, I say no worries, babes, cuz he's probably gonna have to shave for season 2 lol so he'll be forced to do it... plus every guy goes through that stage sooner or later: they think they look so cool while everyone they know is telling them to shave lol... it's happened to like half of the guys I know... and they all end up shaving at the end LOL ANYWAY... kinda went off topic there. Keep up the pretty reviews!**

_**Random Note**:Desperate Housewives Season 2 Finale is AMAZING! omg that show's so damn good. If you haven't seen it yet, go watch it now! And if you don't like DH well... just ignore this I guess lol... :)_


	7. Light to Overcome Darkness

**Disclaimer: **"I gotta find the disclaimer... it's the only thing I can think about."

**Chapter 7 – Light to Overcome Darkness**

"Hey, it's ok, look at me like you did before," said Dean smiling at the boy despite all the worries that clouded his mind. The boy wouldn't stop crying and his eyes were fixed on the ground. He took a step back when Dean tried to touch his shoulder. "Look at me, please."

He didn't know why he needed the kid to show him his blue eyes again, but he simply did, and he wouldn't do anything else until the boy looked back at him. But the kid was too scared, so Dean tried a different approach.

"I'm Dean, what's your name?" he asked gently and that seemed to do it. The boy's sobs became calmer, although his eyes were still fixed on the ground.

"I have lots of names," he replied, suddenly sounding much older than he looked. "Will you destroy the necklace like that man said?" he asked suspiciously.

"No, I just need to buy time to get you and my little brother out of here."

"You have a little brother?"

Dean knew they had no time for this, but if he wanted to gain the boy's trust he would have to answer him.

"Yeah, his name is Sammy… see, that bad man who wants the necklace took over his body, so I need to save him."

The boy laughed, a wonderful melody in the chaos that surrounded them, but he still looked straight down at the ground.

"What is it?" asked Dean confused.

"That bad man is scared of me, so why isn't he scared of your brother? He is much bigger than me."

"Is that why he sent me to get the necklace? Because he can't get near you?"

"I think so… if I give it to you… do you promise you will not destroy the necklace like the bad man said?"

"I promise."

Finally, the boy slowly raised his head showing his incredibly crystal-blue eyes.

Dean couldn't do anything but stare into the calm and transparent pools. He could see his own face reflected in their depths, but his reflection looked different; transparent and pure, like the boys' eyes and also like something else… something he couldn't quite put his finger on.

The word _lake_ crossed his mind, and left it almost as soon as it had come.

The man reflected in the boy's eyes looked so real, carefree and in peace, that Dean almost couldn't recognize himself. And he had seen this before, but where? And why could he see it again now? He was so lost in the boy's eyes he forgot everything else and just kept staring inside, wanting to see more.

He was sitting at the edge of a small pier, an infinite lake spread before him so calm, so transparent and so pure that all he wanted was to let it take him. The morning sunlight made it sparkle, filling it with light- the light that provided just enough warmth for anyone walking near the lake.

Dean looked down at his own calm, transparent and pure reflection. It looked back at him with gentle and rested eyes; the eyes he had inherited from his mother; the eyes he had lost after he let her go.

"_Go, Dean, you have to let the lake take you… you'll overcome darkness with your light if you simply go in… you will save the land of the living… your light will destroy their dark… you deserve to rest, Dean." _

Although the voice seemed to come from everywhere, Dean knew it belonged to the boy.

"_What about Sammy?" _He asked in his mind, knowing the boy would hear his thoughts.

"_He will join you at Home, Dean, he will be there with you and you will never be alone again."_

"_But Sammy has dreams… Sammy wants to go back to Stanford after this is all over."_

At this, the voice laughed, the most beautiful laughter Dean had ever heard.

"_Don't worry, when he sees what waits for him at Home, he will forget all his earthly dreams."_

"_But what if you're wrong? I don't want to force Sam to do something he will regret. I'm sorry, I can't go with you."_

"_Are you sure?"_

"_Yes."_

"_I didn't expect less from you, child. Well then, in that case, please take back your necklace. You must hurry, Dean!"_

Dean stood up and slowly but firmly walked back towards the beach, and finally he saw the small boy facing him in the middle of the pier. He held out the necklace in his hand, just the way Sam had seen it in his dream, his eyes fixed on Dean's. The hunter took the necklace before the boy vanished with the first smile Dean had seen crossing his lips.

The images around him started to fade away until darkness took him.

And still he walked back.

* * *

John hid in the bushes, a predator stalking its prey. Waiting for the right moment to attack.

The only way to end it as fast as he needed to was with one arrow right through the heart, and he wasn't allowing any mistakes today. He could see the golden creature dancing like a nymph, as slim and delicate as the birch trees around it. It looked like a large fox, but it moved on its back legs and its eyes were red puddles of blood.

John followed it with his crossbow, not letting its innocent appearance deceive him. He knew those eyes too well by now. He had seen the creature kill a white-tailed deer in the blink of an eye by setting it on an unnatural blue fire with the power of its blood-shot orbs and watching the poor animal rot under the flames.

Patiently, John waited until finally the creature stopped for a couple of seconds to sniff the air around it. And before it knew it, the creature was dead on the ground.

He ran impatiently to retrieve his prey and sitting beside it, took a small flask and filled it with the creature's blood. He looked at his watch. Exactly fifteen minutes left.

And ten minutes after that he was back in the motel looking for one of Sam's shirts or anything that belonged to him as the instructions in his own journal said.

In his concentration and fear, John failed to notice the nasty burn that had appeared on his eldest son's shoulder. Dean still lay there exactly as John and Sam had left him, but all the oldest Winchester could see was the urgent task at hand.

He had no time to look for anything that represented Sam, so he took the first shirt he saw that John was absolutely sure belonged to him and soaked it six times in the creature's blood.

After that, he lit five white candles and placed them over the five points of the pentagram he had drawn on the floor with the creature's blood. Carefully, he laid the damp shirt in the middle of the five lit candles and began to whisper the prayer he had written on his journal.

* * *

Sam couldn't move his own body, but that didn't stop him from seeing everything around him, from hearing every word his mouth was forced to say and above all, from feeling more powerful than he had ever felt.

Like he had complete control over his brain, like all those nightmares and visions now made obvious sense. And as much as he could now access his powers fully he hated them, because they were hurting his brother.

He had made lightning hit Dean once on his shoulder and once straight in his back and he knew he would suffer from it when his soul returned to his body.

And he, Sam, would be responsible for his pain.

The demon had merely forced him to do it, but this demon wasn't powerful enough to control an electric storm; Sam was, so it was his fault.

_Please don't listen to him, Dean. Just put on the necklace and go back to dad, _he thought desperately as he watched his older brother talk calmly with the young boy as if unaware of their horrifying surroundings. He watched the child look up from the ground and lock his eyes with Dean, who suddenly glowed in the darkness of Hell.

Dean's soul was motionless for a few seconds, but it glowed blinding the demon that possessed Sam, disintegrating all the shadows that still floated in the heavy air and the boy still kept his crystal-blue eyes locked with Dean's hazel ones. And then the child smiled for the first time, almost proudly and vanished as Dean's soul turned around to face the demon in Sam's body.

For the first time, Sam saw Dean as he truly was: calm, transparent and pure. The only light to overcome the darkness of Hell. So much so that Sam almost couldn't recognize his own brother.

Dean walked defiantly, the necklace firmly clutched in his right hand. Every step he took was making the demon weaker and Sam stronger. Sam heard himself scream at the pure light radiating from his brother and he was glad for it; the demon inside him was losing control.

"C'mon, Sammy, let's go home," Dean said smiling and holding out his hand to guide Sam back. Sam slowly stretched out his own hand trying to regain control. Their fingertips were almost touching and Sam was slowly letting out a relieved breath he had been holding realizing he could move on his own again. Although the demon was still inside him, Sam had the power now. All they had to do was reach the place where Dean had appeared almost an hour ago.

If only he could reach his brother's hand.

A lightning struck Dean hard in the middle of his chest throwing him out of Sam's reach and although he felt no pain, he knew it would probably kill his body even if he ever got his soul back inside it.

"I might hate that light but it ain't gonna kill me, big brother," said the demon regaining control. "Now destroy the necklace right here and now or else little Sammy will have to join mommy and Jess."

Dean seemed to hesitate, not having expected the demon to be so resistant. He looked at the demon and then at the necklace. There was nothing he could do.

A soul's only weapon was its light. And if the light wasn't powerful enough, it would be consumed by darkness and turned into shadows.

Just when Dean had decided to destroy the necklace and worry about the consequences later, the demon began to scream in agony. It wasn't harming Sam's body or trying to get out of it; the demon actually seemed to be trapped inside its hostage's body.

Even though he had no idea what the hell was going on, and never suspected that his father was weakening the demon, Dean didn't waste a minute and put the necklace around his neck, grabbed the now unconscious possessed Sam and ran as fast as his feet would permit him back to the symbols John had drawn.He looked at his watch.

One minute left.

He managed to get to his destination with thirty seconds to spare, which he used to hold Sam firmly with both arms in case the demon suddenly became strong again as it had before. Hating the wait, he prayed for the demon to stay out of it for as long as possible.

And then, blessed darkness took them.

**A/N: As usual, thanks so much for your reviews! Hope you liked this chapter; only one more to go and then maybe an epilogue but I'm not sure... lol this story tunred out so spiritual... but then I've always wondered what happens when you're like half dead lol but the funny thing is... I never before pictured Heaven and Hell the way I describe them in this story... they just... came out as I wrote lol...**

_**Random Note: **Can anyone please explain to me what people mean when they say their story is AU? LOL_


	8. Together as a Family

**Disclaimer: **"The disclaimer ends now. I'm ending it."

**Chapter 8 – Together as a Family**

Dean took a desperate breath as his soul was returned to his body. Although breathing was almost impossible and he thought it might actually kill him from the pain it caused, he couldn't help but keep breathing back in the life that had been gone for exactly one hour.

"Dean!" cried John relieved to hear his son's labored breathing again, failing to notice how much weaker it became every second. His eyes were fixed on his unconscious younger son on the floor. "C'mon, you need to help me tie Sam up before the demon wakes up."

Sam.

Dean suddenly remembered everything and tried to sit up, but it proved impossible. He could hardly feel his own body, immobilized by the agony, which was all he could feel.

"Da-da-d…" he choked, begging his father to understand what was going on. John looked at his eldest son for the first time since he had set off for Waterloo.

John had assumed that his main worry would be Sam, because Dean would be okay. Dean was always okay; no demon could hurt his body because only his soul had descended. Dean would get his soul back on time and he would help him exorcise the demon inside Sammy, and everything would be fine again.

His eyes went from the massive bloody burn in Dean's chest, exactly where the older wound was, to the smaller, but equally powerful burn on his right shoulder, and Dean was grateful those horror-struck black eyes couldn't see the burn on his back.

_But the necklace is still around my neck, _thought Dean proudly.

"Oh God, Dean…" John whispered shakily seemingly lost for what to do, knowing that he had to exorcise the demon as fast as possible, but how could he leave Dean like that?

But Dean shook his head very slowly from side to side.

"Sam …f-f-firs-t," he said almost inaudibly.

"Dean-"

His oldest son tried his best to form a small smile and nod his head. After that, his glazed eyes closed in exhaustion.

Fighting his urges to call for help, John turned away from Dean and opened his diary on that page that was becoming regularly used lately. He began reading the Latin verses as quickly as he could, all the while listening to his oldest son's slow and alarmingly weak breathing.

The exorcism was one of the easiest John had ever attempted and all because of the incantation he performed with the mythical creature's blood. In less than a couple of minutes, Sam shot open his mouth and an endless black cloud came out of it, finally vanishing in thin air.

Without even stopping to check on Sam, he stood up and went back to Dean's side.

"Dean, wake up. Dean! – Sam call 911, get the first aid kit and water, now!" he shouted over his shoulder and he was conformed with the sound of hurried footsteps as evidence that his youngest had heard him.

"C'mon, Dean, wake up, son," John said shaking him lightly, but Dean didn't even flinch.

Sam reentered the room carrying the first aid kit and a glass of water. Hurriedly he gave them to his father and kneeled beside Dean.

"Dean, please wake up," he begged as John did all he could to clean the wounds. Unconsciously, Sam gave Dean his best puppy dog look, and even if Dean couldn't see it, when had he ever been able to refuse Sam anything when he used his secret weapon?

Dean's eyes opened slowly, fixed on his little brother. Then he weakly turned his head towards his father.

"I br-brought it-it… back," he said as Sam reached for the water glass and gently put it to Dean's lips, but most of the liquid slid down his chin, the older Winchester having no energy left even to swallow it down.

"Yes, you did, son," answered John, "you did very well. Now just take it easy, the necklace is safe and so is Sammy. No one's hurt." He knew he had to say that because he knew all too well that Dean's loved ones were his first priority. The younger man nodded slightly, apparently convinced.

Dean could no longer keep his eyes focused, and he wanted so much that lake to take him so that the pain could stop. He was so close to the edge! But a tiny voice that came from miles away was begging him not to do it.

"Stay with us, Dean, please, be strong," pleaded Sam, hearing the sound of the approaching sirens.

"Be strong for Sammy!" said another voice. Dean knew he would always be strong for Sammy, but his little brotherwasn't here on the pier with him now so how could diving into that lake affect his little brother? Well, that didn't matter now. He would be strong for Sammy.

Dean tried to turn his back on the lake for the third time in his life, but his soul didn't seem to want to respond this time. It stayed there facing the lake, about to dive in. Dean tried with all his strength to turn, but it was impossible.

And he stayed in that spot battling against this invisible force that pushed him down. But he had to be stronger than the force, just for Sammy.

* * *

Sam and John Winchester sat in the waiting room of that loathed hospital where they had been waiting for Dean to wake up not two months ago.

It had been three hours. Three, long, eternal hours since Dean had been rushed into the emergency room and no doctor or nurse had come out to bring them the news yet. Neither father nor son had said a word to each other since their arrival. Sam stared at the doors separating them from the ER while John kept his eyes fixed on his coffee, which he hadn't even tasted.

"Dad, I did this to Dean," confessed Sam suddenly as if the words had been trying to come out for hours.

"What are you talking about, Sammy?"

"The demon used my… you know… abilities… to do this to him, if it wasn't for me… if I had been stronger, Dean would be okay. I could have controlled it, dad!"

_No you probably couldn't have controlled it, _John remembered Dean saying to him when he had tried to apologize. He knew exactly what Sam was going through and understood his guilt completely, but now that he saw it from the outsider's point of view, he knew Sam and him were innocent and there was nothing they could have done.

"Look at me, Sam," he said firmly and the man raised his head shamefully like a child being lectured. "I know how you feel, but I need you to understand that it isn't your fault, son. Trust me, Dean would never think of blaming you. _Ever_."

In that precise moment, a doctor rushed out of the ER in their direction. Both Winchesters stood up instantly, trying to read the doctor's expression to get their answer before he even got to them.

"How's Dean?" asked John anxiously.

And the doctor didn't reply.

* * *

The force was becoming too much for him, the lake kept pulling him down. And he couldn't fight it, not anymore. He had tried his best, but it just hadn't been enough. At least Sammy wasn't involved this time. He wouldn't have to follow him against his will ever again.

The kid might take a while getting used to Dean not being around, though. They had, after all, been road tripping together for about a year. It would be hard, but he would move on. Sam always did.

_Sorry, Sammy…_

And dad? Well, dad still had Sammy, and he still had a purpose: to destroy the demon that killed mom and Sam's girlfriend. He would be fine too.

Dean felt the fresh water invade his soul as he was pulled in. He felt more refreshed than he ever had and he welcomed the sensation, no longer fighting to go back. There was no reason to anyway; his purpose was done: he had retrieved the necklace. Plus if he was gone from Earth, there was no way the demon would ever be able to accomplish its wishes to rule the living. It would be better this way.

But as he swam freely in the depths of the lake following a bright light that came from the bottom, he saw a figure swimming towards him. It was a beautiful woman with long blonde wavy hair and she extended her arms towards him.

Dean grabbed his mother's hands gently, wishing her to pull him towards the light at the bottom, but instead, she smiled and shook her head.

"Dad and Sammy need you, Dean," she said giving his hands a reassuring squeeze. But Dean knew it was too late; he couldn't swim back. Not anymore.

"They don't need me, mom, they have each other and a purpose to live."

"So do you son."

"No, mom, the only reason I got Sam back from Stanford and went off to look for dad was to keep our family together. You know killing that demon was never my priority."

"Exactly, and if you're gone, they will forget our family. You need to keep the family together and watch out for Sammy, as you always have done. That, Dean, is your purpose in life, and it's much more important than killing any demon."

With that, she let go of his hands, pushing him back. Mary smiled at him as Dean felt his body return to the surface.

"I'm proud of you, Dean," she whispered and vanished in the light at the bottom of the lake.

* * *

"He… he will be fine, he should make a complete recovery," said the doctor smiling awkwardly at the two Winchesters after a deathly pause.

Sam let out a breath he didn't know he was holding and flashed a wide grin.

"Can we go see him?" he asked impatiently.

"Sure, son, but only for a few minutes." But Sam was already gone.

"What is it?" asked John ruthlessly, who unlike Sam, had noticed the man's strange and nervous behavior as he approached them.

"Mr. Williamson, listen," he began using the name on John's current credit card, "I hate to tell you this, but… we had to revive your son once and we lost him a second time. We tried to revive him again and nothing happened. After a few minutes, we called the time of death and the nurse was about to turn off the machines, when we got a heartbeat; and as if that hadn't been enough, he began breathing on his own. The readings were suddenly much better than they had been all morning and we managed to stabilize him. No one can explain what happened, but if you ask me, it was a miracle."

John listened in silence to the doctor's hurried explanation, as shocked and scared as any parent would have been at hearing the words "we tried to revive him but nothing happened." Shaking the thought of his son's near death – or rather, death – experience, he nodded quickly and walked past the doctor to join his sons.

Dean was covered in bandages and there were wires all over the place, but at least he was breathing calmly on his own. Sam sat by his side as usual, holding his hand between both of his.

John approached Sam and sat next to him, patting him lightly on the back. The Winchesters stayed together like that, forgetting their differences and ideas of revenge in order to be there for Dean.

Even now, as he lay unconscious on the hospital bed, Dean was doing his job, keeping his family together and bringing them a little closer as realization dawned on them that they had survived yet another day, not as hunters, but as a family.

**The End**

**A/N: Oh wow. It's over! Thanks a lot for reading my story and I hope you didn't find the ending too lame lol... Thank you soooo much for the support you guys gave me chapter after chapter, especially cuz this was my first fic and I wasn't sure what to expect lol. Also thanks a lot for telling me what AU means hahaha now it's all clear so thank you very much! So anyway thanks again for reading and reviewing, you guys are great :) _Now on to the epilogue..._**

_**Random Note: **My friend who also watches Supernatural changed her voice mail to "This is John Winchester... blah blah blah..." when I found out I like couldn't stop laughing it was sooooo lame... plus she told me that the first person to find out was her mom who said like "I think someone changed your voice mail..." ANYWAY lol you so needed to know that..._


	9. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Who had that boy been? Dean would never know for sure. Sometimes he thought he had been an angel, a messenger from God or maybe even God Himself. All Dean knew was that he had changed his mind about good and evil.

Dean Winchester had never been a man of faith. He did, however, believe in God; he had evidence for that: if God didn't exist, exorcisms wouldn't work and no demon would react to the name Cristo, so that much he knew for sure.

Until now, though, he had never believed God would help them. He had always thought of God as a force that didn't interact with humans, that didn't prevent horrible things from happening and that didn't help people who desperately needed Him.

But now he knew better.

Now Dean understood that God allows humans to live the way they choose to live, and only interferes when it's out of their hands, like how the necklace had been protected when the Winchesters could do nothing about it.

But why had He allowed him to live? It wasn't the first time he had miraculously regained life. Dean remembered when he had been healed in Nebraska, and although that had been the work or Dark Magic, why had he been picked as soon as he arrived? Why had Dean and Sam discovered the truth before Le Grange could heal Leila? Was it fate? Well, now he found himself thinking that maybe Leila had been chosen by God to die because she was ready. Maybe God had even put him and Sam there to stop her from being healed, who knows…

All he knew is that he wasn't ready yet. As Le Grange had said himself, Dean was _"a man with an important purpose – a job to do, and it isn't finished."_

Sometimes the thought overwhelmed Dean. Would his job ever be finished? And if so, when? Would he have to watch Sammy and dad die before he could go too?

He pushed the thought behind his ever-present mask. He pushed everything that had happened to his soul behind that mask and never talked about it with his family. After all, the answers to his questions would all have to be answered sooner or later and he hoped with all his might the answers came later rather than sooner.

Right now, all Dean needed was his family, and no God or Demon would take that away.

**A/N: Yes, I decided to be nice and post the epilogue with Chapter 8 cuz I thought it would be stupid to make you guys wait for this short piece of well... ramblings... so anyway! Thanks again for reading and I hope you liked the epilogue cuz I wrote it like two minutes ago in like five minutes lol! Anyway, for the last time I gotta say,**

**THANK YOU!**


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